


The Orphan with the Golden Heart: A Tatooine Faerie Tale

by glorious_clio



Series: Star Wars is a Faerie Tale [2]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6347512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Once upon a time, there was a small Orphan who was kind and bright and worked very hard." Beru is known for her storytelling prowess, and this is one of her favorites.  Luke finds reason to chafe at it, but ultimately, finds hope in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Orphan with the Golden Heart: A Tatooine Faerie Tale

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Orphan with the Golden Heart fanmix](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/184708) by Glorious Clio. 
  * Inspired by [Instructions](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/178765) by Neil Gaiman. 
  * Inspired by [The Orphan with the Golden Heart | playmoss fanmix](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/252103) by glorious clio. 



> I wrote a fairy tale for Leia in order to explore her backstory, and it seemed only fitting I write one for her twin. It was fun to try and link their two tales together, yet Luke's story, since it had to mirror his childhood in the same way, had to be a bit darker and rougher around the edges. It was a fun challenge, but again, heavily based on Neil Gaiman's "Instructions" from which I derived all the poetry. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Shout out again to lalalalalawhy for beta skills and brainstorming. All mistakes are my own! 
> 
> Please visit the playlist I created for the story: http://8tracks.com/glorious-clio/the-orphan-with-the-golden-heart-a-tatooine-faerie-tale

_ _

_Once upon a time, there was a small Orphan who was kind and bright and worked very hard. He did as he was told without complaint. The Orphan was employed at the castle of an evil king and his silent wife. The queen never spoke, but the young lad could tell what she ordered of him without the gift of language.  An eyebrow lift meant to ready the beasts for her daily ride. A sigh meant she was hungry, a frown, that she wanted the young Orphan to fetch her a book. He did all that she wished, and all the chores his masters placed on his shoulders, cleaning and fetching and feeding the beasts, any of the manual labor required in the running of a castle. The cook, a thin woman with no child of her own, looked after the boy and fed him scraps from the royal table._

_It was not the queen who was the ruler on this planet. It was a crude place, full of bribery, corruption, a backwater planet gone completely stagnant.  Her husband was the King with an ugly black crown and ruled as such with cruelty and disinterest in the common people who worked to the bone until their deaths.  The lessons the Orphan learned were ones of how cruel life could be. He knew the bite of hunger, or the heavy hands of those who would beat him for a slight infraction. He knew the heartbreak of cold and lonely nights._

_The Orphan knew nothing else than this hard life.  Somehow, miraculously, he managed retain a kind of innocence. Yet he was restless and could often be found late at night, staring at the Stars._

_And so the years passed._

   
  
  
  
  
  


There was no doubt about it, not in Luke’s mind, anyway. Beru Whitesun Lars was a very gifted storyteller, and Luke Skywalker was lucky to call her his aunt.  The Whitesuns were renowned for their storytelling abilities, oral traditions being important on Tatooine. Written records were not trusted, only the Empire used them, and the Hutts had long memories, so the humans had stories.  Beru Whitesun had learned them all by heart at her father’s knee, word for word, beat for beat. Lesson for lesson.

And it would be more wonderful if she did not use the stories, _this_ story in particular, every time he asked her about his parents.  He didn’t really like being compared to the orphan all that much. The Princesses always had it the best; comfortable childhoods, one or two adventures, and then (usually, though not always) a happy ending.  He’d take that. The parents and the happy childhood, anyway.  

“Tell me about my father,” Luke would beg of the Uncle Owen, who would gruffly reply that he barely knew the man.  

“Tell  me about my father,” Luke would try again later.

“He was... distracted.  Idealistic.”

“Tell me about my father, please?”

“Are your chores done?”

And so it went.  And with Beru, it was always “Once upon a time....”

Still, there was something nice about watching the binary sunset, sitting next to Aunt Beru, listening to her calm measured voice relate a story that he was starting to memorize, about the orphan and his adventures.  Luke’s chores were done for the day, but his body was still hot, too hot. All he had to do was be patient; the suns would set, and then his skin would be so cold, and he and Beru would slowly freeze from the outside in, or they would if they didn’t seek shelter.  Luke felt safe, next to his aunt, home a few steps behind.  The Sandpeople were known to attack at dusk, but the horizon was clear.

 

 

  
  
 

_The silent queen was dying.  The King hadn’t noticed, but the Orphan, whose duty it was to notice when she twitched her pinky, could tell by her every gesture that his lady was not well at all.  He was distressed by her every cough, her fever bright eyes, her loss of appetite._

_She wandered through her husband’s castle, staring out of windows, walking very slowly. The Orphan followed behind with a glass of precious water, careful not to spill a drop, begging the queen to stop, rest, drink.  Sometimes she would deign to smile upon the boy, take a sip, and then walk on._

_Eventually, she grew too weak to walk and she took to her bed.  The Orphan would not leave her side.  The King visited from time to time, but he was distracted by the business of his cronies.  He did not call for a doctor or a mage or a nurse, leaving only the Orphan to nurse the queen._

_On her last day, she dutifully took a sip from the Orphan’s glass, and then, reaching beneath her pillow, she produced a small velvet pouch the color of darkness and passed it to the boy who had nursed her to the threshold of her death._

_He held it in his hand, surprised, but the greatest shock was yet to come._

_“Go,” the silent queen said._

_“Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never_  
_saw before._  
_Say "please" before you open the latch,_  
_go through,  
walk down the path._

 _“Once through the garden you will be in the_  
_wood._  
_The trees are old. Eyes peer from the under-  
growth._

 _“If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe._  
_Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that_  
_witches are often betrayed by their appetites;_  
_dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;_  
_hearts can be well-hidden,  
and you betray them with your tongue._

 _“Remember your name._  
_Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found._  
_Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped_  
_to help you in their turn._  
_Trust dreams.  
Trust your heart, and trust your story.”_

_“What?” he begged,  not understanding how a woman so silent could suddenly spill so many words. He felt them steep into his heart._

_She smiled and brushed a hand over his cheek.  “Darling child. There is good in the King.  This was my way of begging you to go into the wilderness at the ends of the world.  I need you to find the tree that bears golden apples and bring one to the King in the pouch I have just given you. If he eats of the fruit, he will be saved.”_

_“Why must I go, my lady? Surely a warrior or knight-”_

_“There is no one I trust more. You will understand someday.” She squeezed his hand once more and rasped out, “Promise me?”_

_“I promise,” the Orphan whispered back._

_And with that, the lady died._

   
  
  
  
  
  


It was nearly time for the Boonta Eve Classic, and nine year old Luke was finally old enough to attend the podrace.  He couldn’t wait, having been a fan of podracing since… well, forever! Mos Espa seemed massive to a boy raised on the outskirts of what passed as civilization on Tatooine.

He and Aunt Beru waited a moment outside the Grand Arena while Uncle Owen placed a meager bet on the outcome.  Luke’s gaze was fixed on a list of winners, running his eyes over names that seemed to be never ending, but he caught his own: Skywalker.  Anakin Skywalker.  His heart leapt in his throat and he almost couldn’t _believe_ it! How is it that Uncle Owen claimed to know nothing about his father, but this never came up?  Hurriedly, Luke read through as many of the other names as he could, but judging by the plaque, his father only won the race once in his life before leaving.  Still, after seeing the race and it’s difficulties with his own eyes, Luke was impressed with even the one victory.  

“Anakin Skywalker,” he told Beru when they got back to the farm.  It had been a long night of travel and he had slept almost the whole way home, the excitement overloading him and pushing him into sleep. He had dreamed he was podracing, and speeding through snowy mountains with a girl who was wearing a long white dress and long dark hair in a braid. He dreamed of her often, but she felt like a secret, so he never mentioned her.

Luke was helping Aunt Beru in the kitchen, his Uncle was out in the fields.  

“What about him?” Aunt Beru asked, distracted by the lunch she was making.  

“Why didn’t you tell me his name? Or that he won the _Boonta Eve Classic_?!”

Aunt Beru looked at the boy, his blonde hair greasy and his blue eyes wide with excitement, delighted to find a connection with his father. He needed a bath again, Beru thought sadly.  “I’m sorry, Luke, I forgot.  It’s not something Shmi talked about very much. I think it caused her great pain.”  

“How could something so... so epic! cause her pain? Wasn’t she proud of him?”

“She was very proud of her son, but I believe with the winnings of that race, he freed himself from slavery and took to the stars.”

“And Grandma Shmi?”

“I don’t think he won enough money to free her too.”

“How could he leave her?” His pride in his father felt like it had fallen to the floor and smashed into a million pieces.  

Beru dropped to her knees in front of the boy.  He was aware of the slavery laws on this terrible, brutal planet, and knew that slavery touched nearly every family including his, but Luke would never, could never abandon anyone for any reason.

“He did not want to leave your grandmother, but she knew the son of a slave would get no better life here on Tatooine, so she sent him, though it nearly tore her apart to do it.  Your father had many adventures, and he had you.”

“And I was sent back here.”

“Yes, he died when you were born, dear heart.”

“And my mother?”

“I think I met the woman who became your mother. Her name was Padmé. She was kind, she was traveling with your father.  I don’t really remember that well. He came back when Shmi died, you see. We all could hardly see through our grief.”

Luke nodded.  “Grandpa Cliegg bought Grandma Shmi and freed her.”

“Yes, you remember that story.  I loved Shmi.  She was wise and strong, but she missed her son terribly. I think you would have been a balm to her heart, Luke.”

“Am I like him, then?”

“I am not sure,” Aunt Beru said carefully.  “I didn’t know him well enough to say. But your kindness reminds me of Padmé.”

“I dunno where you get your reluctance to do your chores, though,” said Uncle Owen, coming through the door.  

Luke jumped a foot back from his aunt’s arms. “Sorry, Uncle.”

“I’m teasing you, lad.  I knew you’d notice your father’s name on that plaque.  I was at that race; never saw anything like it.  We thought he was done for but he managed to squeak out a victory from under the nose of the great Sebulba.”

“MY FATHER BEAT _SEBULBA_ IN A PODRACE?” Luke was suddenly delighted again.  

Owen laughed, and gave Luke the play by play of the race.  

That night, Owen tucked Luke into bed and ruffled his hair with a gruff “Well, goodnight.”

“Uncle Owen?”

“Yes, lad?”

“Do you remember my mother? Padmé?”  The name felt good and warm in his mouth.

“Not really, Luke. As I recall, your father was trying to protect her from something, but neither would say what. And he wanted to protect Shmi, if that’s bothering you.  The trouble is, there’s no protecting a person from their fate.”

Luke sighed.  “He escaped slavery.”

“I’m not so sure he did, in the end.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, Luke.  Go to sleep. We’ve got to be up early tomorrow.”

   
  
  
  
  
  


_The queen’s words sent the Orphan into the world with the pouch at his hip, pausing only to say farewell to the cook, who pushed a flask of water into his hand and kissed his forehead. He walked to the edge of the castle grounds and at the wall, he found the wooden gate the queen had described. His fingers hovered over it for the moment; he whispered ‘please’ then slowly worked the rusty latch open._

_He set down the path._

_The Orphan’s planet was not a place with many trees.  The wilderness could be described as long dry places of desert, and sometimes the trees one saw in the distance were mirages, and no help to anyone.  Still the Orphan walked on, taking tiny sips from his flask of water, spreading it out as long as he could.  He soon began seeking shelter for most of the day and walking at night through the sand to keep himself warm, following his beloved Stars._

_On the third day, he was about to drink his last few drops of water when he spotted a magnificent firebird.  She was resting her wings on a scrubby little bush (which did not catch fire despite her flame feathers)._

_A proud thing, she was furious to catch a human staring.  When she flew at him, the Orphan threw up his arms._

_“I suppose you’re here to steal one of my feathers!”_

_“Not at all, madam. Please excuse me, I have never seen a firebird before, and surely I have now seen the best one.”_

_She was slightly soothed by this, but his next words tickled her._

_“Would you like some water? I’ve a few drops left....”_

_A laugh escaped her. “Firebirds do not drink water.”_

_“Of course, how silly of me.”_

_“What brings you to this hot place?”_

_“My lady, the silent queen, on her death-bed asked me to fetch a golden apple at the end of the world. She believed if her husband eats it, he will turn to the light.”_

_The Firebird clicked her beak._

_“Perhaps this is so, but you will find that the hardest part of your journey will be the return home.  Though I know someone who can help you.  Can you fly?”_

_“No, madam,” the Orphan said._

_She sighed.  “Humans really are useless. Take ahold of my talons then.”_

_She flew up again, and this time the Orphan gently took her talon, and she flew him for miles and miles, all the way to a true oasis._

_“Here lives a mage,” she said. She set him on his feet again and alighted on his shoulder.  “He may be able to help you.  He’s a powerful magic user, though not as powerful as me.  But I cannot spend all my time flying you this way and that.”_

_“You’ve been more than generous, I am truly thankful.”_

_She preened.  “However, I can be of help to you just once more.”  She offered him a feather.  “Take this and twist it in your hand should you require aid, and I will come to you.”_

_“Thank you again, lady Firebird.”_

_She clicked her beak again and flew off, and the Orphan walked to the small hut of the mage and knocked on the door._

   
  
  
  
  
  


Luke was a lonely kid. He worked on his uncle’s moisture farm, far out from Anchorhead, the next largest city being Mos Eisley.  There wasn’t much on this planet other than sand and Hutts anyhow.  Aunt Beru gave Luke rudimentary lessons during the hottest part of the day, when everyone else took refuge in the house.  On a battered old datapad, Luke learned to read, write a bit, do some figures.  She taught him a bit of history; he mostly ignored it, except for a blip about the Jedi Order in the Old Republic, gone before his time like everything else that’s cool.  But most of his lessons were out in the fields with Uncle Owen, repairing and maintaining the evaporators. 

There were other kids around that Luke sometimes played with, usually when Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru went into Anchorhead. Laze Loneoznerv quickly earned the name Fixer, he was the master of fixing toys or datapads.  He had a gang of two that followed him around, Deacon, or “Deak” and Windrom or “Windy.”  They played with Luke, and they teased him a lot and nicknamed him “Wormie,” but Luke wasn’t around enough to feel bullied.  

They all looked up to Biggs Darklighter, who was too lofty and cool for even a nickname.  It was really through Biggs that Luke was accepted into the group.  Biggs loved hanging out with Luke, who he protected and teased like a younger brother.  The truth was, when the kids raced their battered secondhand speeders, Biggs’s only real competition was Luke.  

Racing came naturally to Luke, though he was careful not to brag too much about Anakin’s racing pedigree. Winning one Boonta Eve Classic would likely invite more scorn than awe. Somehow, if he was able to forget the excitement of the race, he could match his thinking to the racer, and the engine almost told him what to do, how to manage a nasty blast of sand or when precisely to lean into a turn or when to break. And stunning womp rats came almost as easily, adding to the skill of the race.  

There was also Camie Loneozner, Fixer's older, cooler sister - their parents had an underground farm and they mostly purchased their water from the Lars farm.  She didn’t mind Luke, who came often when the Larses made their water delivery.  The Loneozners and Larses would make a day of it and Camie would hang out with Luke and Fixer.  

One of Luke’s favorite memories was one day when they grabbed his wrist and dragged him underground to the fields just in time for the water spigots to turn on and the water came gushing down over the neat rows of ruica.  The water that the Larses harvested so carefully came down in a cold rush and Luke stood there in shock for a moment.  Camie let go of his wrist and began splashing through the mud that the rain was creating, Fixer whooping with delight.  

Luke was fifteen years old, and this is the closest thing he had ever felt to rainfall.  He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, catching a few raindrops on his tongue.

“Come on, Wormie!”

And with that, he raced them in and out of the ruica, long after the water stopped.  The humidity of the field felt so strange and heavy on his skin.  They raced around until their skin and clothes were dry before resurfacing.  

The sunlight felt heavy compared to the coolness of the rain.  

 

  
  
  
  
  
The oasis was beautiful, and the Mage was kind enough to the lad, though his words were often vague and confusing.  Still, the Orphan was grateful to him for giving the young man directions to the end of the world. He told the Orphan stories, and once the Orphan drank his fill in the pool, he made the water supply in the flask everlasting. In return, the Orphan stayed a few days and helped the old Mage with a few chores that he could not manage in his advanced age.   

_Come nightfall, the Orphan kept up his habit of staring up at the Stars._

_“Your future is up there, lad,” the Mage told him, but he would not tell the Orphan what kind of future it might be.  He waited, but the Mage spun him stories of wars and battles, and mortals that lived out their fame, or their infamy, in the endless dance of the Stars. He told of lovers, of enemies, of beasts, of twins who shared immortality between them._

_“And you cannot tell me of my future?” the Orphan asked._

_He shook his head._

_“Can you tell me of my past, then?”_

_The Mage looked up at the Stars for a long moment, then said, “Not yet. You will understand someday.”_

_“Well then... can you tell me of your past?”_

_The Mage shot him a wry smile.  “Like you, I once resided in the castle as High Mage.  The King was not always evil, as your lady says.  He was kind, if reckless, almost desperate to help others.  But darkness entered into his heart. The boorish men who surround him led him astray, and he succumbed to his own weaknesses.  Yet even if he was seduced, the choices he made were his own, in the end.  And the lady you serve so nobly was not always silent. Her council used to be considered wise and good, until she began to disagree with the King’s cronies.”_

_“What caused her to stop using her tongue?” the Orphan asked._

_The Mage sighed.  “Like many women, the threat of violence and the lack of an escape.  What I tell you now is dangerous and a secret she was anxious to keep.”_

_The Orphan nodded solemnly, determined to protect the queen’s silence.  He waited for the Mage to continue._

_“The queen discovered she was with child, which is often the way of things, but she knew her husband would make a dangerous father. She approached me, though I was falling quickly out of favor.  She did not want the child disappeared, though of course, I could have done it. Instead, I cast a glamor to protect her secret- unwanted eyes slipped past her belly.  Soon enough the child was born. And hidden.”_

_“Where is the child now?”_

_“It is not truly my secret, to reveal the identity of the child, or even if they live.  If the queen did not tell you, then I can not betray her.”_

_The Orphan returned his gaze to the Stars and pondered._

_The next morning he left, with the pouch, the firefeather, and the ever-full flask of water._  
  
  
  
  
  


Over the years, Luke’s skills as a pilot were developed in Beggar’s Canyon, but it was ages before he attempted to thread the Stone Needle.  The Stone Needle was a rock formation that rose about sixty feet, and if you passed through it, you could shave about five seconds off your time in a race.  Hardly anyone attempted it; Biggs had made a few attempts and survived relatively unscathed.  

But leave it to Luke to technically thread the Needle, and knock out his stabilizer.

He still managed to win the race, but no one wanted to help him home (Deak seemed especially furious, and Biggs wasn’t even there that day), so Luke had to nurse his skyhopper home by himself, going barely faster than a slow walk.  The sky was darkening and the shadows lengthened, and every sound was the Sandpeople, coming for the vulnerable human.  

“Hello there!”

Luke whirled around, and then saw Ben Kenobi, the crazy old hermit who lived down in the Canyon.

“Hi, Ben.”  

“You’re out a bit late.  What’s happened to your Skyhopper?”

“I lost the stabilizer.”

Ben understood the situation with Luke and his friends, perhaps better than he did.  The runt of the litter, they didn’t, at the moment, care about his fate.

“Do you mind if I walk with you, young Luke?”

“I guess not. It’s not like I’ll outrun you.”  

They passed the few miles to the farm in silence, Luke more concerned about the Skyhopper, grateful that another set of eyes was scanning the horizon for trouble.  Luckily, none found them as the homestead came into sight.  

“Owen! Owen, Luke’s home!”  

Luke’s heart clenched; she sounded worried. He saw his uncle join her at her post and then he came running over, not at Luke, but at Ben.  

“I thought I told you to never come here.”

“Young Luke was abandoned by his friends. I merely accompanied him home.”

“Well he’s home now. Leave.” Uncle Owen pointed uselessly, away from the house.

Old Ben bowed, turned, and left. His long strides never faltered as Luke watched.

“What kept you, boy?” Owen demanded.

“Knocked my stabilizer off,” Luke said.  

“How’d you do that?”

Luke shrugged, not daring to tell Owen that he had recklessly threaded the Needle. Such a thing was dangerous, and he couldn’t put it past Owen to ban him from racing, especially not in this strange, angry mood after seeing Ben Kenobi.  

“Get in the house, boy. It’s too dangerous to be out here. And don’t you dare put mind to anything that crazy old man said.”

It was useless to argue that the two had hardly spoken.

  
  
  
  
  


_He walked for a year and a night. The road was difficult under his feet, and he faced many challenges along the way.  Following the Mage’s direction, he arrived at the tree with the golden apples at the end of the world.  The tree was taller than he expected, however. It was beautiful, graceful, its green leaves sometimes rippling in the breeze to flash the tantalizing gold skin of the apples, shining in the Starlight. The grass around the trunk was dotted with lovely pools that glistened with magic and reminded the Orphan of the Mage, so many miles behind him._

_“You must not harm the tree,” a witch said, appearing suddenly, as if she had been waiting for him to arrive._

_“I... I am here for a golden apple to save the evil King. Will that hurt it?”  The young Orphan respected all life and would never wish to harm something innocent._

_Still, he had picked crab-apples in the King’s pitiful orchards before, and they always seemed to grow back. If the apples were not picked, they would fall to the ground and sprout a new tree, crowding the old ones, fighting for drops of water.  Good husbandry sometimes required picking the apples.  Could it really harm this tree?_

_The old witch eyed the Orphan shrewdly.  “It is true that picking an apple would not harm this tree, but rather, the act of climbing it would. Even resting a ladder against the paper thin bark would kill it.  Magic takes its toll, lad.”_

_“So I must pick an apple without touching the bark?”_

_“Nor the green leaves, which will shrivel from green to black.”_

_He was still not sure he could trust this witch, but he could not risk harming the magic tree, and he pondered his problem for a few minutes.  He had prudently been saving the Firebird’s feather for his return journey, but he knew clumsy human hands and limbs would not aid him in retrieving the apple. The Firebird’s wings had no negative effects on living things. He was not burned by her plumage, nor was the bush she roosted on harmed by her._

_Carefully, he pulled the feather, still bright with flame, from his pouch and twisted it in his hand.  The Firebird appeared.  The witch watched all this hungrily, and the Orphan kept one eye on her._

_“Ah, little Orphan, how can I help you? What trivial human task am I obligated to do for you?”_

_“Madam, I have reached the tree at the end of the world, and this kind lady tells me that I must not touch neither the bark nor the leaf of the tree to pluck an apple for the King.”_

_The Firebird clicked her beak happily.  “Finally a challenge worthy of my skills!  Which apple do you require?”_

_The Orphan said, “I leave it to you; your magic is the most powerful I know.”_

_Without hesitation, the Firebird flew up then circled the enchanted tree three times.  She calculated wind speeds, angles of branches and fruit, and her own deftness.  Finally she dove under and up and harvested an apple._

_She then dropped the apple in the Orphan's hands and circled him, delighted with her victory._

_The Orphan was about to open his mouth and thank her when the witch attacked with magic of her own.  The Firebird realized in time and blocked the magic, dying instantly under the blow. It happened so quickly the Orphan had hardly realized what was happening. His reactions were instinctive after over a year on the road. The witch had to rally again; she had wasted much magic on her first shot. The Orphan realized she wanted the golden apple. Looking for his friend the Firebird’s body, he saw instead a pile of ash coming together._

_He gathered her ashes and tucked her into his pouch, settled the apple next to her and closed it tightly._

_Then he jumped into a magic pool, feeling another blast of magic miss him as the water came up over his head._

_He swam down and away._

   
  
  
  
  


Luke tried not to be too jealous when Biggs went to the Academy without him, but it grew over time, unbidden.  He burned with jealousy as Uncle Owen grew to lean more heavily on him, itching for freedom that was continually denied him.  

He tried to be content, really.  But something itched in the back of his mind, some muscle remained unused, despite his hard labor.  

   
  
  
  
  


_The Orphan didn’t know when down became up again, but before long, he saw a glimmer of light that meant the surface. He swam towards it; when he broke into the air and took a deep breath which triggered a few moments of hyperventilation._

_“Back again, eh, my lad?”_

_Turning in the pool, he discovered he had found his way to the Mage’s oasis.  He pulled himself out of the lagoon and gently helped the Firebird out of his pouch.  She had remained dry, and the apple next to her looked perfect. She was too small to speak, so the Orphan found her a sunny branch to roost on. Then he went into the Mage’s hut and slept for three days on the hearth next to the stove._

_When he awoke on the third day, the Mage was there with food and drink and a gleam in his eyes._

_“Well done, my boy.”_

_“Thank you,” he said. “How fares the Firebird?”_

_“It will be some time before she fully recovers her strength, but she can talk again.”_

_The Orphan finished his meal and went to the tree to speak to her._

_“Thank you, Madam Firebird, you saved me from the witch.”_

_“And you saved me,” the Firebird replied. “You are a very good and kindly for a human.  Were it not for your golden heart, the apple would have burned your hand. It may have even killed you. Remember this before you feed it to the evil King.  It may cure him, but sometimes the cure may be worse tha_ _n the disease.”_

_“Why would the queen have me fetch it to him, then, if it could kill him?”_

_“Who can say?” the Firebird replied._

_“Only time will tell if the King can truly be saved,” said the Mage.  He had silently approached while the Orphan and the Firebird were conversing. “Lady Firebird, if you wish to stay in my oasis, please feel welcome. I will be away a long time, and perhaps, I may never return.’’_

_The Firebird clicked her beak.  “Thank you for your hospitality.”_

_“But where are you going, sir?” the Orphan asked._

_“With you, my lad.  Between you, me, and that golden apple, we might do some good for this planet yet. Say your farewells to the Firebird, for we should get moving.”  With that, the Mage took a walking stick from a living tree (and thanked it for its help), and walked to the edge of the oasis that had been his world for so long._

_“Rest easy, and I hope you regain all your magic.”_

_“Thank you.  Good luck, young lad. I do not have a feather to give you this time. The most difficult part lies ahead, and neither the Mage nor I can help you complete your journey. You must make your own home.”_

_And with that, she turned around, and the Orphan joined the old Mage, and the two stepped together into the wilderness.  It took three days to reach the castle.  Remembering the words of the Firebird and the silent queen, he took the Mage through the gate (after saying please to the latch) and led him straight to the court of the evil King._

_The castle was in a disarray, with no orphan to care for it.  He thought of the beasts in the stables and hoped they were at least well fed and brushed and ridden now and again. Still, he did not deviate from his course and marched into the throne room, the Mage at his side._

_Their arrival did not escape the notice of the King. “Well, what have we here? A young Orphan and an old, weak Mage.”_

_His cronies snickered and laughed._

_“I have gone on an errand for the silent queen, and at her request, I have returned,” the Orphan began._

_The Mage picked up the thread.  “I too have been doing the silent queen’s bidding.”_

_“She is dead and can no longer appreciate your labor,” the King replied.  “As for myself, both of you have betrayed me by leaving my court, and so you shall both be punished for it.”_

_“I think not, Majesty,” the Mage said and struck his walking stick loudly on the floor._

_The Orphan was not sure what happened, but King suddenly looked shocked and pale._

_“WHAT IS THIS?”_

_“Might I introduce you to your son?” the Mage said calmly. “I have lifted the glamour that protected him from you.”_

_“And you kept this from me?”_

_“The lad did not know.”_

_The Orphan’s mind was reeling.  He almost could not understand what was happening.  How could this vile man be his father?_

_“But you knew, and you thought you could hide yourself. Guards, seize him.”_

_They didn’t have the chance.  The Mage struck the floor once again for his stick, and instantly, he transformed himself into a large oak tree, bursting through the ceiling of the great hall.  The Orphan flinched and jumped back, trying to avoid bits of falling roof. The guards, for their part, were knocked back.  Silence fell, louder than the crash of the tree’s growth.  The Orphan locked eyes with the King._

_“My son.”_

_“Sir, the queen has sent me on a quest-”_

_“Never mind that, my boy, won’t you come here? I did not know you were my son. Now that the Mage has removed the glamour, I can see the resemblance.”_

_The Orphan shuddered, but he did as he was told and came close to the King and his ugly black crown.  The King threw an arm around the young man’s shoulders._

_“Look son, when I am dead, you shall be king of all this.” He gestured to the room, the throne, the chambers and hallways where the Orphan had grown up in fear._

_The Orphan looked, and the great hall was filthy and covered in debris. The boorish court were still cast away from the tree and looked at the boy with mutiny in their eyes._

_“I have long yearned to know my family,” the Orphan began slowly. “But I have never wished to be a king. Rather, your wife the queen wanted to save me from what I can see this power has twisted you into, someone cold and heartless.”_

_The hand of the King when to the boy’s neck as a warning, but he quickly shook him off and stepped away. He pulled the golden apple out of his pocket._

_“My lady the queen told me this would save you, but I was warned that if anyone who possessed less then a pure heart touched this, they could sicken and die. If you renounce your evil ways, I will give you this cure. If you do not, than I shall take it away.”_

_“My son, put it away and let us think of it no more. We shall rule this planet together!”_

_“That was your chance, sir. Had you agreed to it, I would have stayed.”_

_“No-”_

_“I shall plant the apple somewhere, and if you are lucky, it will take fruit and grow-”_

_“My son-”_

_“And if you are luckier still, it may grow and mature.”_

_“Listen to me-”_

_“When it does, you can retrieve a golden apple for yourself. Perhaps by then, you shall have waited long enough to renounce the darkness in your heart. But you must not harm the tree when you pick the fruit - should you touch the bark or leaves, all will be for naught.”_

_“I AM YOUR KING!” he roared._

_Silence fell, and the Orphan, now a man, said quietly.  “Yes, you are, and my father. I hope to see you again someday.”_

_The Orphan left the hall, and though the King ordered the guards to follow, to bring him back, they did not listen. They were disgusted with the Orphan and knew they would not be able to corrupt his heart.  So the Orphan left his castle and went to where the silent queen was buried._

_Quietly, he apologized for not saving the King, but hoped he may still turn back to the light. He gently planted the golden apple in the ground and the foot of her grave.  He poured out a bit of his water from his never-ending flask.  “Grow, please,” he begged of the golden seeds in the flesh of the apple._

  
  
  
  
  
 

It hadn’t started as an ordinary day, Luke usually didn’t wake up a minute before his Uncle expected him for work, but today, he had to track down R2-D2, and then he was caught in something bigger than him, between sandpeople, Ben, the jawas... and then....

“No” was the only thing running through his head as he sped home.

“No, no no no no....”

And then, seeing their burned out home, their- their... their corpses, his mind stopped working.  

Dry eyed, with shock, he found a shovel and dug the graves for the people who raised him.  It was, perhaps, the hardest work he had ever done for Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru.  Their bodies were... well, beyond burned. He could not wash them in precious water. Instead he wrapped them gently in cloth and buried them.

He tried to say a few words, but there was no one around to hear.  Only the breeze, pushing grains of sand everywhere. The bottom dropped out and there were no tears, even. And Luke knew no other way forward than the way Ben offered him, to save the dark haired princess in the white dress who looked so familiar to him, somehow.

   
  
  
  


_And the Orphan went out into the Stars to make a home._  


End file.
